


A Prince's Folly

by moonfleur



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Because of Reasons, Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love, M/M, but also not in the way that you think, but not in the way that you think, homoerotic swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/moonfleur
Summary: When Renjun visits the Southern Kingdom he finds himself asking one question:Who is Na Jaemin, really?A simple enough question, but one whose answer will determine the fates of both their Kingdoms.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 41
Kudos: 211
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	A Prince's Folly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crinkledpages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crinkledpages/gifts).



> Hello! This story has gone through a number of revisions and, if I had my way, this would probably be a good ten times longer but you'll also probably only get it in like June next year. So here we are with the next best thing :]
> 
> I am gifting it to you because you deserve a fic more and because you read it so I love you ♡
> 
> Happy 2021 everyone!

Jaemin is an enigma.

This is something Renjun has noticed over the course of his painstakingly long month here in the Southern Kingdom. He is everything Renjun expected — rude, stubborn, arrogant, everything the rumours say he is — and yet, he is also everything but. 

Renjun can’t put a finger on it, on him, and on the weird flare of _something_ he feels in the very pit of his stomach every time Jaemin does something decidedly unbecoming, like now, with the way his hand is dipping just below the waist of the noblewoman he is dancing with. 

The smile he has on his face as he dances with her is the one he wears on the long days he has meetings with his councilmen or his advisor, it’s small, the corner quirked just enough to highlight the way his eyes glint almost mischievously under the light of the many chandeliers hanging overhead. It is arrogant and boyish and has the girl he is dancing with blushing a pretty pink. Just two weeks ago, Renjun would have seethed seeing it, but now he only feels a mild sort of exasperation and the faint urge to roll his eyes (which he does not because he, unlike the Crown Prince here, has some form of self-control).

He does take a sip of his wine, though, pausing to take an appreciative sniff of it just before it touches his lips. He watches it swirl in his glass before he looks back up only to freeze when he finds Jaemin watching him over the head of his partner. 

The smile he wears now is different, wider, warmer, the sharp glint in his eyes dulled to something closer to a burning ember. It is the one that Renjun knows, Jaemin only wears around him, something that must have happened at some point during his stay but if you were to ask him when exactly this started, Renjun wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

All he knows is that one day he had been fending off Jaemin’s decidedly barbed verbal attacks and the next it had become… _this._ Whatever _this_ is. It has that same something that had flared in him earlier swooping down from his chest into what could very well be his feet and it has him feeling like everything is slightly off-kilter, like he’s walking on some tightrope but the world below him is tilted just a few degrees off. It is unsettling but in a way that has his blood rushing and he knows his cheeks are already starting to burn but he returns the smile anyway, hoping that the lighting in this very extravagantly decorated ballroom is too low for Jaemin to notice.

Jaemin doesn’t notice (Renjun thinks) but his smile does widen for a split second and then his attention is back on the girl and Renjun finally feels like he can breathe again. He sets his wine glass down on the marble countertop he’s been hovering around all night — a secluded spot half shrouded by what can only be described as a whole bush of flowers set in the middle of it because he’s never really been a fan of the Southern Kingdom’s larger and much louder royal events — and gives his surrounding one last glance before he finally allows himself to slip out of the ballroom.

♕

When Renjun first meets Jaemin, it goes something like this.

He feels absolutely disgusting — he’s been on the road for the better part of two weeks, shuttling between the cramped confines of his carriage and the slightly bigger although no less cramped confines of few inns they’d stopped at as they made their way from the cold Northern Kingdom into the warmer and decidedly less comfortable Southern Kingdom. He’d also just had an audience with the King and Queen of the Southern Kingdom in the aforementioned state and he feels vaguely mortified although neither monarch had commented on it, something he’s eternally grateful for.

Now, though, all he wants to do is get out of his travelling clothes and into a hot bath but he can’t because there is a ridiculously good-looking young man barring the entrance to his room and Renjun knows he’s _really_ tired because all he wants to do is shove the guy out of the way, pretty face notwithstanding.

Unfortunately, Renjun was raised well so instead of shoving him out of the way like he really wants to he settles back on his haunches, crosses his arms and levels the guy a decidedly unimpressed look. The man in question doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s discomfort, instead he meets Renjun’s gaze with a lopsided smile and a silvery, shiny glint in his eye that Renjun really does not want to deal with at the moment. He is dressed simply, black shirt tucked into loose slacks, but they are both made of silks that only royalty or nobility can afford. Contrastingly, his inky black hair looks like he’d woken up and forgotten that it existed with the way it is mussed and falling over his face completely unstyled.

“May I help you?” Renjun asks in the calmest tone he can muster.

The man looks at him and Renjun swears the gleam in his eyes only gets brighter. “I don’t know. Can you?”

Renjun has to hold in a sigh, already feeling exhausted at the thought of having to deal with whoever this is (although he does have an inkling if the clothes are anything to go by). “I won’t know if you continue being vague about it.” He pauses, then adds: “Your Highness.”

The grin he is met with is nothing short of blinding and some part of Renjun wonders if it is humanly possible to have that many _teeth._ “You know who I am,” he says, delighted and Renjun really just wants to run into a wall.

Renjun gestures tiredly at his outfit. “It wasn’t a difficult assumption, Your Highness. But if I may ask, what are you doing in front of my quarters?”

The Prince shrugs, leaning back against the door to Renjun’s quarters, but the grin on his face doesn’t dull. “Nothing. Just thought I’d let you know I don’t like it when my parents make promises for me.”

Renjun frowns and he can already feel the beginnings of a headache start to stir behind his eyes. “Promises, Your Highness?”

“Jaemin. You can call me Jaemin,” he says, ignoring the way Renjun’s frown deepens, before continuing. “And I know my mother promised that I would be a good King to your Queen but you should know that you cannot hold her to that promise when it involves something out of her control.”

Renjun does sigh this time, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he look at Jaemin. “Are you saying you won’t be a good King?”

“I’m saying I can’t promise I will be.”

“Well, fortunately, or unfortunately, for you, I will be the judge of that. But I’m sure you already know that.”

The grin returns. “Oh, I know. Looks like it will be a fun month, hm?” 

He reaches out to pat Renjun’s cheek, who jerks out of the way with a scowl that he really cannot be bothered holding back at the moment. “If you says so, _Your Highness._ Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to get to my quarters.”

“On one condition,” Jaemin says holding a hand out to stop Renjun from trying to get behind him. “Tell me your name.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t overhear that earlier,” he mumbles under his breath, which earns him an amused quirk of a brow from Jaemin. “Alright, fine. Renjun. You may call me Renjun. Now, will you please let me go?”

Jaemin smiles again, all teeth. “Be my guest, _Renjun._ ”

Renjun decides then and there that he already hates the way his name sounds falling from Jaemin’s mouth.

♕

The next time he sees Jaemin it is a couple of days later and under much more formal circumstances.

Despite the rather harried circumstances under which he’d had his first audience with the King and Queen, they had still granted him a few days to recuperate from his long journey down south, which Renjun had used to recharge and ready himself for the harrowing month he knows he is going to have if his first night had been any indication. 

Tonight, he finds himself invited to an official state dinner, one involving all the heads of the noble houses here in the Southern Kingdom. They are in one of the grander dining halls, a magnificent room that is taken up mostly by a large, polished oak table. Paintings hang in gilded frames on the walls, most of them of older monarchs long gone, while the entirety of the wall opposite is lined in floor-to-ceiling windows, some of which have been opened to allow the cool sea breeze into the room.

When Renjun arrives, he is one of the first, the only other guests being a portly old man who is balding from the crown of his head, who barely acknowledges his existence, and one Crown Prince Na Jaemin who doesn’t even look up from where he is meddling with the edge of the napkin. 

Renjun can’t mask his surprise at Jaemin being earlier than him, having heard that the Prince is famous for his grand (read: late) entrances to almost every official event. It doesn’t help that Jaemin is in full dress attire as well — an all white uniform with gold trimmings and a collar that rises halfway up his neck, his hair has been styled too, slicked back to reveal more of a face that really is handsome, something Renjun hadn’t had the energy to process that first night.

It is only then that he realises everything is decked in gold and white, from the table linings and the settings to the curtains that flutter against the window panes. Even the flower centerpieces on the table are made of a combination of white jasmines, lilies and some other flower that must grow in the warmer climate of the South. It makes Renjun feel strangely out of place in his own royal decorum — a red uniform that is lined in silver — and he internally berates himself for not getting more suitable outfits made for his trip.

He is equally dismayed when he finds that he has been seated beside Jaemin, who does a very painful double take when Renjun settles into the seat beside him. He takes in Renjun’s outfit and, for a moment, Renjun thinks he sees a hint of approval in his eyes but it is gone in an instant, leaving Renjun wondering whether he had conjured the moment up out of his desperate need to not feel like a duckling in what will ultimately be a sea of swans.

Jaemin returns his attention to the he’d been fiddling with earlier, now rumpled slightly from his efforts. “I see you must have missed the notice on tonight’s dress code,” Jaemin says without looking up and Renjun has to grit his teeth in order to stop the words he’d really like to say from spilling out of his mouth.

“I see you’ve finally remembered how to dress decently,” is what he hisses out instead as he tries to ignore the stark contrast between his sleeve and Jaemin’s.

Jaemin lets out a huff of laughter before leaning towards him. “Did you think I was dressed indecently before?” He whispers. His breath is hot as it ghosts over the shell of Renjun’s ear and it takes all of Renjun’s willpower not to jerk away from him. It doesn’t help that the words come out low and teasing, smooth and syrupy like molasses in a way that seems to hold him in place and has him feeling ridiculously warm despite the coolness of the air.

He turns to Jaemin who is looking at him with his infuriating lopsided smile and that stupid glint in his eye that Renjun already hates, only for his retort to die on his lips when the attendants at the door announce the presence of more guests. He settles for a scowl instead, which only makes Jaemin look even more smug, before he settles back into his seat to watch as the rest of the noblemen start to file in.

The dinner only commences when the King and Queen arrive, which happens once all the guests have been seated and conversation around them starts to pick up once more. Of course, being an official ‘state dinner’, the topics soon turn to the current affairs of state as most dinners like this are wont to do. 

Renjun remains quiet for the most part, carefully taking mental notes about the current state of the Kingdom and how the Kingdom seems to be run, all information he will have to pass on to his Queen before she arrives. Unfortunately, being seated near the head of the table where the King and Queen are means that all eyes fall on him too, which makes for an uncomfortable experience when all Renjun wants to do is eat in peace.

It only gets worse when the noblemen turn their attention to Jaemin and it becomes awfully apparent that no one at the table seems to expect anything from the consistently recalcitrant prince. Their tones shift from the respect to condescension and, at some points, even derision when they ask him what his take is on the issues most commonly brought up to the Council. Jaemin isn’t any better, he matches their derision with disrespect and their condescension with bluntness, occasionally throwing in an opinion that will have Renjun wincing into his food.

He spends the rest of the dinner trying to avoid the gazes of the King and Queen who he knows are watching because _they_ know what he is here for, how the future relations of both their Kingdoms rest in his, and by extension Jaemin’s, hands. 

By the end of the night, Renjun thinks Jaemin has successfully reinforced every negative opinion the noblemen have of him, if the way they whisper behind their hands, gazes pinched, when he makes his opinions known is any indication. Jaemin, on the other hand, looks as unbothered as he had the night Renjun had found him leaning casually against the door of his quarters, although his gaze remains cold and almost calculating as he watches the way the noblemen plaster on fake smiles on their faces as they nod when he finishes.

It is a horrible affair, although not one that Renjun is unfamiliar with, and by the end of it Renjun has drawn some conclusions of his own. One, the Council of Noblemen probably know next to nothing about running the Kingdom, something the King and Queen seem to overlook with great difficulty. Two, said Council do not seem to approve of Jaemin in the slightest, although they seem to do a good job at hiding their displeasure from the King and Queen. Three, Renjun doesn’t think he will ever understand Jaemin if he was given a lifetime, let alone the month he has been given. The whole night had been a relay of question and answers between people who clearly do not think much of each other, and while Jaemin had made some poor choice in answers, he had still delivered them in a way that had seemed purposefully if anything else. 

It doesn’t help that he cannot get that look out of his mind, the way Jaemin had faced down every Nobleman that had challenged him tonight with a certain surety and hardness in his gaze Renjun would never have expected from him, not from the few interactions he’s had at least. Sure, it had been hidden under an air of aloofness and nonchalance that had made the aura of disapproval radiating from his parents practically palpable. But it had still been there, steely and cold, and very much unlike the Jaemin he’s seen so far.

It leaves Renjun with questions of his own when he finally retires to his quarters and collapses into bed. They swirl around his mind like a flock of vultures determined to pick at his brain, at the center of which hovers one giant one: Who is Jaemin, really? A simple enough question but one with an answer that will determine the fates of both their Kingdoms.

♕

The answer comes in pieces, snippets of moments glimpsed under flickering lights and over the heads of old men who think they know how to run a Kingdom. In fact, it comes first under warm lights strung across wooden beams laid out across the huge expanse that is the royal gardens. A special celebration to mark the turn of the season, the last of the warmer days.

Renjun is beginning to realise that the Southern Kingdom will use anything as an excuse to celebrate, preferring to fill up the empty spaces between Council meetings and citizen audiences with music and colour, an almost jarring contrast to steady monotony of the Northern Kingdom. Not that Renjun is complaining, he was never one for parties anyway, preferring to spend his free time in the library or training on the quad.

He has to give it to them, though, they know how to host a good party. The gardens have been decorated to the teeth, the wrought iron lamps that hang from the wooden rafters and awnings erected specifically for the day have been custom-made to hold a dozen lit candles in little bowls that protect the flames from the wind. Pagodas made out of wire and flowering vines dot the landscape and the guests too are decked out in flowery finery, the last time many of them will don the lighter pieces commonly worn only in summer.

Renjun himself is in a silvery lightweight silk shirt, one of the few lighter pieces he owns, and it is tucked into black dress pants. Jaemin, on the other hand, is dressed almost obnoxiously in a gold shirt that is open far too low. Renjun can just about make out the slim necklace that rests perfectly on his collarbones. There is a flush on his cheekbones as he dances with one noblewoman and then another, the smile on his face a perfect replica of the one he had graced Renjun with that first night. 

Renjun watches as Jaemin mingles between dances, watches the way he speaks to the noblewomen who sidle up to him almost hungrily, looking for a dance, or maybe something more. Everything he does is smooth, seamless, actions slipping into reaction like waves crashing on a shore, his fingers dancing over where the noblewoman he is talking to has placed her hand on his chest. He looks at her like she is his entire world and she probably believes it too. Especially with the way she blushes bright pink when he leans closer to her to whisper in her ear.

Renjun tuts disapprovingly into the glass of champagne he’s been nursing for most of the night, grimacing when he takes a sip and realises that it is no longer cold. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, still unused to the heat of the South, and wishes he could pop open a few buttons too. He spends another couple of minutes watching as Jaemin moves from one blushing girl to the next in a way that almost makes him feel sorry for the girl he’s just left but he’s sure they are aware of Jaemin. The rumours are pretty descriptive after all: Na Jaemin, frivolous, ill-disciplined, a flirt. They say other things too, more crude things, about who and how many he allows into his bed chambers, especially after events like these.

It conjures up an image far too graphic for Renjun’s liking — Jaemin flushed the way he is now but against silk sheets, his shirt hanging open as he gasps under a mass of writhing bodies. Renjun almost chokes on his champagne and he sets the glass down on a nearby table as he forces the image from his mind, a traitorous heat coiling in his gut. 

Whatever Prince Jaemin does in his bed chambers is none of his business, he decides, trying to ignore the way Jaemin is looking at the woman in front of him like he wants to devour her. But at least he has an answer to his question, or a part of one. 

♕

The next piece falls into place a few days later at another event that is equally as large but where the last one had been formal, a dinner party of sorts, this one is the complete opposite. Instead of dancing in a garden under the stars, Renjun finds himself sweltering under a tent in the middle of the day. They are in what Renjun suspects is their version of his own training quad but where his is lined with smooth stone theirs is lined with sand and dirt, most of which has already found its way into the creases of Renjun’s outfit.

This is supposed to be an annual swordsmanship tournament of sorts, but Renjun knows it’s really an excuse to pit the sons of the noble houses against each other in what can only be described as a royal dick measuring contest, which, of course, means that Jaemin, as the Crown Prince, is obliged to compete.

It also means that Jaemin, as Crown Prince, has an immediate pass to the second round, which means that it is over an hour before he even steps onto the field and by then Renjun feels like he’s absolutely drowning in his own sweat and the grit that’s somehow found its way into this eyes and throat. It doesn’t help that he’s been given an honorary seat in the King and Queen’s tent as the official Emissary from the North, so, as much as he would like to, Renjun can’t do more than squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

When Jaemin appears, he looks like he belongs more in a painting than out on some sandy pit under the noonday sun. Where all the other swordsmen are covered in dirt and grime, Jaemin looks _pristine_ in his cream fighting breeches. It almost hurts how handsome he is and Renjun knows that he is extremely aware of the effect on people when he turns his smile onto the crowd and everyone cheers. Everyone save the tents housing the other Noble houses of course.

The sword in his hand is a large broadsword, so clean that it still glitters under the sun. It looks like a hefty thing, the hilt alone looks heavy enough but Jaemin carries it like an extension of himself, the sword movements smooth as he gives it a few test swings, and for the first time Renjun finds himself almost eager to watch him. Almost. Until Jaemin catches his eye and _winks_ and suddenly Renjun wants to be anywhere else but this pit, anywhere that Jaemin _isn’t._

He scowls and Jaemin grins, smug, before he turns his attention back to his opponent who is only just getting on the field. He doesn’t look like much, tall and reedy, like every other nobleman’s son — muscles lean and developed through swordplay and strict exercise instead of through hard work and manual labour. It is an almost disappointing matchup, especially with the way his arms tremble from exertion having narrowly won his first round and Renjun settles in for an easy win.

The gun goes off. 

And Jaemin wins. But barely.

It is a shocking turn of events when the guy who could barely lift his sword somehow manages to out manoeuvre and almost disarm Jaemin, who, for some reason, suddenly looks like he doesn’t know the right end of his sword if it was dangled in front of his face.

His next match passes in much the same way. In fact, he almost loses — he misses a parry, sidesteps in the wrong direction and almost spears himself on the edge of his opponent’s sword before sheer reflex alone has him twisting away. It is incredibly disappointing and Renjun feels a mounting frustration start to build up within him every time he watches Jaemin walk into what should have been an easy block or an easy counter. It doesn’t make sense and it makes Renjun feel like tearing his hair out. Or Jaemin’s. As the Crown Prince he should have been trained by the Kingdom’s best swordsman and he had acted like it too when he had first walked out onto the field and the sword had practically danced in his grip.

Now, though, now Jaemin looks like he has two left feet and like he doesn’t know which way is right. He is a mess. Fumbling, careless, without any regard for his reputation and how this will make him look in the eyes of his Kingdom because it is not only the nobility watching this tournament. No, there are people from every part of the city gathered to watch, they’re piled into the audience stands set across from the tents and they are perched on the bridges and walls that overlook the field. His people are watching him and he doesn’t even _care._

Renjun is annoyed and frustrated and about a second away from grabbing a sword and running Jaemin through with it himself. If this is the Prince his Queen Regent is supposed to be marrying then he is calling the betrothal off right there and saving his Queen the trouble of travelling all the way down here for a wedding he will not let happen. Jaemin can barely run himself let alone a country and Renjun is _pissed._

There is only one thing on his mind, one thing he wants to do, but he can’t do right now. Not when they still have an audience, and not when he still feels like spearing Jaemin at the end of his sword is the right answer. So he waits, as patiently as he can, gritting his teeth against every near loss and then the eventual loss that Jaemin suffers at the hands of some tall, pretty boy who looks like he’d fall if a gust of wind blew too hard. It is an embarrassing loss, one felt especially hard by the King and Queen who looks at Renjun with an apology in her eyes and he almost feels sorry for thinking of cancelling the betrothal. Almost. The King however, is almost livid, his face an almost bright red when he meets Renjun’s reluctant gaze before he excuses himself from the tent.

The Queen’s promise rings in his ears. _A worthy king,_ Renjun scoffs at the thought. Not in a million years.

He finds Jaemin afterwards, when the crowds have finally dispersed and all the noblemen have taken their leave, seated in the corner of the armoury as he polishes his sword. The anger and frustration from the afternoon is still there but no longer the raging inferno it had been, now it feels more like a simmer, a dull sort of thrumming beneath his skin that only thrums louder when Jaemin looks up and meets his gaze. 

“Stop that,” he says, not bothering to soften his words now that they are the only ones present. “You’re only going to get it dirty again.”

Jaemin quirks an amused brow at the suggestion. “Why do you think that?”

Renjun grabs a sword from one the racks nailed to the wall, a similar broadsword to Jaemin’s albeit less ornate and a lot less sharper. It will do. “I want you to duel me.”

Jaemin looks at him, incredulous for a moment, his hand hovering over his blade. “What?”

“You heard me,” Renjun says seriously. “Duel me or I’m calling off the betrothal and you can try explaining to your parents how you screwed up your Kingdom’s largest political arrangement like you’ve screwed up everything else.”

That gets Jaemin’s attention and Renjun watches with an almost morbid satisfaction as his gaze shifts from teasing to stormy in an instant. His hands tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turn so pale they’re almost white. “How dare you?” He grits out, standing up so that he towers over Renjun. “You don’t know me.”

Renjun smirks, but his eyes remain cold, hard, a reflection of all the ones that Jaemin has given him. “Don’t I? You’re lazy, you’re rude, you aren’t serious about anything other than which warm body you’ll use to warm your bed at night. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Jaemin says swing his sword up towards Renjun’s throat with an ease that should have won him every single match he’d fought today but Renjun merely brushes it away with tip of his own sword and replaces it with his own, the point just centimeters away from Jaemin’s skin. If anyone walked in on them now, Renjun would be arrested but he doesn’t care, not when it feels like a dam within him has finally been broken but instead of water it is molten magma, white hot, every emotion he’s had to tamper down finally being released.

“Prove it.”

Contrary to the energy sparking between them when they start, the fight begins slow, steady, both of them feeling each other out, figuring out where the possible chinks in their armour are. Jaemin’s moves are different now, more steady, more measured, eyes never leaving Renjun as he clocks every move Renjun makes.

This is the Jaemin Renjun had been expecting when he’d stepped out on that field earlier, sword in hand, like the Prince he is. Not the boy who’d almost lost every single one of his match ups. This Jaemin is predatory, his eyes dark as Renjun takes the first attack, which he parries with ease. He counters and Renjun dodges it, easy too. 

They continue like this — one step, jab, parry, two steps, swing, another parry — the dust picking up and swirling around them as they dance with each other, the sounds of metal on metal the only music they have to guide their steps. Jaemin is as elegant as Renjun thought he’d be, as strong as he’d seemed when he’d picked up his sword without any trouble. He moves like water does through the bends in the river, smooth, graceful, even when he dodges every jab and counter Renjun throws his way. His sword really is an extension of his body and Renjun is struck with how beautiful he is like this, calm and unguarded as one can only be when you know that no one is watching. 

Renjun wins.

It is a close one but Jaemin slips up, his arm coming just a beat too slow and Renjun knows his sword out of his hand in an instant before raising the sword to Jaemin’s throat. A clean win.

They collapse onto the dusty ground, their swords clanging loudly where they hit the ground, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the pit at night. Jaemin’s laid out completely on the ground with absolutely no regard for his outfit while Renjun sits on the ground facing him. They’re both panting and red-faced and covered in dirt but the strange undercurrent of energy that had erupted between them earlier is gone now, a grudging respect taking its place as they meet each other’s eyes.

“You threw the fights,” Renjun says eventually, breaking the comfortable silence that had started to fall over them. “Why?”

Jaemin shrugs and tilts his head up to look at the sky. “It’s easier that way.”

“Easier to lose?”

“Technically, I only lost one match. One that no one would have believed I’d lose.”

Renjun studies him, the way he looks the calmest he’s ever seen him now, covered in dirt and sweat, the tension that’s had him looking so stiff the past few days completely wrung out. It is so different to the Jaemin he’s been observing that he’s once again hit with the realisation that Jaemin had been right, earlier in the armoury, he doesn’t know Jaemin at all.

“Why?”

Jaemin turns to look at him and he’s taken aback by the uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, the way he seems almost vulnerable, how he’s _letting_ himself be vulnerable. He reaches for the laces of Renjun’s boots and starts fiddling with them. “Like I said,” he says softly, fingers tugging at the laces but not hard enough to undo the knot there. “It’s easier. When people underestimate you, they don’t expect too much from you, you know?”

“Why wouldn’t you want them to expect more from you? You’re their Prince, the future King.”

“Exactly,” Jaemin says, letting the laces fall as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He smiles at Renjun in a way that has his heart aching. “You can’t be a disappointment if the bar is on the ground.”

“Oh, Jaemin—,”

Jaemin holds up a hand to stop him. “Don’t. I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it so many times before but trust me when I say that it is easier. For now at least. People are a lot more willing to say incriminating things in your presence when they think you’re too dumb to realise.”

Renjun’s eyes widen as he realises what Jaemin is trying to say, or not say. “Wait, so this entire time you’ve just been…” He wants to say ‘playing everyone’ but he feels like that’s too trivial a word to use for what Jaemin’s been doing so he trails off instead with a vague wave. 

Jaemin levels him with a look that’s a lot more serious and weighted than anything he’s given Renjun all night and for a moment Renjun sees Jaemin for the Prince that he is — proud, strong, and probably smarter than his entire Council put together. It sets something within him alight in a way he would never have expected, at least not from the Jaemin he’s been observing for the past week. “Like I said, it’s easier. And it will make things easier when I become King. There is more going on in this Kingdom than you’ve seen so far.”

Renjun sighs, leaning back on his hands, ignoring the way pebbles of dirt press into the skin of his palm. “I can imagine. Running a Kingdom isn’t easy and, I must admit, for a while, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

Jaemin lets out a small chuckle as he meets Renjun’s eyes. “And what do you think now?”

Renjun grins, sly for once. “I think… That you’ll have to wait another three weeks to hear what I think.”

“So I guess that means I get another chance, then?”

Renjun snorts, nudging Jaemin’s arm lightly with the toe of his boot. “It means you still have your chance. Your highness,” he adds and the smile that blossoms on Jaemin’s face is absolutely blinding. Its strange that Renjun thinks this is probably the most beautiful Jaemin’s ever been, covered in dirt and sweat, and the leftover grease he had been using to polish his sword. His hair is sweat-slick and plastered to his forehead but the smile on his face is real, not the one he uses when he has to be Prince Jaemin, and a small part of Renjun how many people know Jaemin like this, the way he is now — a solid, glowing ember with a steady warmth instead of the blazing inferno he tends to be when he dons his Prince’s Crown.

They lapse into a comfortable silence and Renjun lets the sound of the wind and the sea crashing against the cliffs below them wash away all the agitation that had probably been building since he first met Jaemin. It’s almost stupid now, when the thinks about it, how he’d let himself get so annoying at everything Jaemin had done, citing inappropriate behaviour but now he is probably more impressed than anything else. At the lengths Jaemin is willing to go, the sacrifices he is making now in order for him to be a better King later on. He wonders if his parents know this or if they think like he had, that Jaemin is a poor fit for a King. It surprises him that he hopes they don’t, that he hopes they know their son at least.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says softly, breaking the silence a couple of minutes in and startling Renjun out of his thoughts. He looks over to find him back on the ground, eyes cast up towards the heavens. “For challenging me.”

“Hm?”

“You could have easily passed your verdict then, right when the matches ended, gone back home and saved your Queen the trouble of being married to a worthless King. But you didn’t.”

Renjun sighs. “To be honest, I was just so frustrated. I _knew_ you knew how to use that sword.”

Jaemin tilts his head and Renjun sees the spark in his eyes that can only mean trouble. “Didn’t know I could make you _that_ frustrated.”

Renjun’s face flames and he is thankful that there aren’t as many lights out in the pit. He levels a glare at Jaemin regardless. “You— You’ve just been so, so… Infuriating.”

Jaemin laughs, a warm, mellow sound. “And you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

Renjun flushes even more but he refuses to back down. “Stop that. That won’t work on me, I’m not so easily swayed like one of your noblewomen.”

Jaemin laughs again but there is something strained now, a tightness that hadn’t been there before. It sounds off but Renjun can’t quite put his finger on it. “I know you’re not,” he says softly and then he shakes his head. He pushes himself up off the floor and holds a hand out to Renjun, who takes it with a small scowl that has Jaemin laughing again. “Now, let’s go. I think we’ve been out here for long enough.”

♕

Something shifts then, like a pitch change in the music that has been their interactions for the week. It jars Renjun almost when he first notices it, like someone had struck a chord too out of key but then had transitioned into a different key altogether and suddenly the rest of the piece falls into place. 

He sees more of Jaemin then, not the Crown Prince Jaemin but the Na Jaemin that’s finally been revealed to him. 

It starts with Jaemin barging into his quarters unannounced one night, hair disheveled and dressed in his night clothes (which Renjun had frown disapprovingly at), before dragging down into the depths of the palace where the kitchens are because it happened to be the night they were baking sweet pastries.

He’d found out then that while Jaemin might have a rocking standing with his parents and with the nobility, he is loved by everyone else. The Head Cook — a large, matronly woman with kind eyes and a firm grip — fusses over Jaemin the minute he arrives, berating him like Renjun had about sneaking around the castle in his nightwear but the fondness in her eyes is undeniable and Renjun receives the same treatment when he is finally introduced. 

Instead of being handed a tray of pastries like he’d expected, Renjun finds himself shoved into an apron and planted alongside Jaemin at one of the back counters because, apparently, Jaemin likes to bake and always takes the time to come down to help on the days the kitchens spend baking, even if that means sneaking around the palace at three in the morning. 

It stuns Renjun speechless for a second when he sees the way Jaemin lights up around the cooks in the kitchen, how he chats with them freely, openly, in a way he would never do in front of the Council of Noblemen or his parents. And they are open with him too. Aside from addressing him as ‘Your Highness’ they treat him much like they would anyone his age, something they extend to Renjun too despite knowing who he is and what he is here to do. They even laugh at him when he mentions that he’s never baked before and Jaemin looks at him like he’s been personally offended before he proceeds to teach Renjun everything they know.

They only leave the kitchen when the sun starts to rise and Renjun is exhausted but happy in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. They are both covered in flour and have to find a way to sneak back to their quarters while avoiding the guards on patrol and it feels just ridiculous enough that Renjun finds himself smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Jaemin seems to be enjoying himself too if the matching grin on his face is anything to go by and if Renjun’s heart does a little leap in his chest when Jaemin takes his hand he does his absolute best to ignore it.

♕

Late nights start to become their thing. If they are not in the kitchens (which seems to be Jaemin’s favourite place) then they are in one of the reading rooms — a particular one that Jaemin’s taken a liking to because it is in a wing of the palace furthest from the where the royal quarters usually are.

This time, it isn’t Jaemin who takes him there. Instead, it is Renjun who stumbles upon it himself on a night when his thoughts are too heavy and he finds himself unable to sleep. Wandering has always helped and he doesn’t think twice about slipping into a robe and into the night despite the late hour and the still unfamiliar setting. He figures that if he gets lost it will just be another adventure for him.

He walks aimlessly through the castle hallways, always mindful of the guards on duty because he’s not sure how well they will take to a foreigner wandering the corridors. The smooth stone of the floor is cold even through his slip ons but he doesn’t think much of it, passing through hallway after hallway, some lined with paintings, some with suits of armour, and some with nothing at all, just bare stone walls.

It is in one of these that he finds the reading room behind a nondescript set of double doors. At first glance, it looks more like a store room than anything else but as he is about to pass it he sees a flicker of light in the gap between the door and the floor, and decides it couldn’t hurt to take a peek.

The room isn’t huge but definitely larger than a storeroom should be and lined with shelves of books instead of produce or cleaning materials. The middle of the room is an organised mess of low couches and pouffes atop a carpet while, against the far wall, stand a row of tables and chairs.

It is there that he finds Jaemin, head bowed low over a book and a roll of paper, the end of the pen he’s holding caught between his teeth. He is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice the door opening or Renjun entering, and Renjun allows himself this moment to observe this other side of Jaemin. 

He isn’t in his sleepwear this time, still clad in his usual loose shirt and pants combination, which tells Renjun he probably hasn’t gone back to his quarter since his official duties ended. He almost lets out a sigh of exasperation but he holds it in so that he doesn’t alert Jaemin to his presence. Mild exhaustion and wear from the day aside, he is still ridiculously handsome even though his hair is falling messily over his face and his shirt is hanging a bit too low on his frame, exposing clavicles that have Renjun’s mouth going painfully dry.

This, too, is a new development. These… reactions… to Jaemin. Renjun doesn’t really know when it had happened but Jaemin had stopped being objectively good-looking and had instead become _this_. Whatever _this_ is to Renjun, even he isn’t sure. All he knows is that he finds himself staring a whole lot more, finds himself reaching to touch a lot more, like the night Jaemin had held his hand for the first time had unleashed emotions he didn’t even know he could possess. Like right now, with the soft candlelight illuminating his features in a way that highlights the sharpness of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones, Renjun wants to— 

“How long are you going to stand there for?” Jaemin’s voice is low and husky from disuse and the dust floating around the place but it startles Renjun out of his thoughts just the same.

He flushes slightly and finally nudges the door completely shut behind him. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to, uh, intrude. I was just out for a walk and…”

Jaemin looks up then, takes in Renjun in his night clothes and robe and quirks an amused brow at him. “In the middle of the night? Dressed like that? A little _inappropriate_ don’t you think?”

Renjun scowls but there isn’t any real heat behind it. “Not like anyone’s going to see,” he grumbles and Jaemin huffs out a laugh before gesturing at the empty seat across from him.

“You can join me, if you want. I think I have a few pages left…” He trails off with a small smile and Renjun realises in that moment that he could never say no to Jaemin. He sighs inwardly, another troubling new development.

Renjun makes a small noise of acknowledgement before moving to collapse onto the chair beside Jaemin. Tucking his legs under him, he reaches for one of the books on the table. _Cultures and Politics of the Northern Kingdoms._ Huh. “An interesting choice,” he says, holding the book up in front of Jaemin.

Jaemin shoots him a wry smile. “Contrary to what everyone might think, I do take my role quite seriously.”

“Is this…” Renjun swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Is this for the betrothal?”

“If I am to marry your queen, it only makes sense that I study your customs.” Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him and Renjun allows himself a small laugh even though his chest feels strangely tight.

“Glad to see you’re taking something seriously.”

Jaemin snorts, nudging Renjun’s leg lightly with his foot before returning to his book. “I always take things seriously.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the occasional gust of wind against the glass panes of the window above them and the sound of Jaemin’s pen scratching on the paper as he takes notes more diligently than Renjun’s ever seen him. 

The tightness in his chest is still there but it is joined by a warmth that floods him, slow and honey-smooth and oh so golden that he can’t help but think that he could stay like this forever, tucked into a chair that is too small to be an armchair but too large to be a desk chair, fire crackling in a grate somewhere on the other side of the room as Jaemin pens down thought after thought, brows furrowing in lines Renjun’s fingers ache to smooth out. 

It is comforting, cosy, impossible, and a thought Renjun shouldn’t be thinking but he figures that it is okay to have this for one night, for one moment, even if he knows that in just over a week this will be over and Renjun will be on his way back to the North. He exhales sadly, just a bit too loudly and Jaemin looks over, eyebrows arching in concern but Renjun only shakes his head, before pillowing it on his knees where they’re drawn to his chest. The smile Jaemin gives him then is the softest Renjun’s ever seen, it almost looks fond if Renjun was to be a bit self-indulgent, but he isn’t, and he can only allow himself so much in one night. He takes the smile, though, commits it to memory, stores it in a little locked compartment in his heart to be opened only when he really needs it.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep but he is woken later by the feeling of fingers threading softly through his hair and the press of lips so light against his forehead that he can’t help but wonder whether he is still dreaming. 

“Junnie,” the voice is soft, warm, familiar and he makes what he hopes is a small noise of assent but his eyes remain closed as he chases sleep. “Junnie.”

“ _Jie_ ,” he murmurs, still half asleep but he knows he is waking up more with every brush of hands through his hair. It all comes crashing down on him then, where he is, _who_ he’s with, and the horrible crick in his neck he has from sleeping curled up on his knees. He bolts upright with a gasp so suddenly he nearly falls out of the chair. “Jaemin?”

Jaemin jerks back with a small noise of surprise, taking what feels like half of Renjun’s hair with him. “Oh! Shit! Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

Renjun glares half-heartedly at Jaemin as he rubs his head, pout already forming unbidden on his lips. He shakes his head, nods, shakes his head again before pressing his face into his palms with a small groan. “I’m fine,” he mumbles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Jaemin laughs, warm and throaty, and Renjun feels it all the way into his toes. “It’s fine. I took longer than I thought. But we should leave, though, the sun’s starting to rise.”

“What?” Renjun lifts his head only to find that Jaemin is right, the grey morning light is already filtering in through the windows, which means they both only have a couple of hours left to catch some proper sleep before the day begins. Jaemin must see his look of dismay because he lets out a soft chuckle before reaching to haul Renjun bodily off the chair.

“C’mon,” he says softly, tucking Renjun into his side. “Let’s get you back to your quarters, hm?”

Renjun huffs but presses closer, until he is wrapped around Jaemin snugly, something he knows he wouldn’t have done if he was truly awake but he is too tired but Jaemin is warm and smells faintly of ink and firewood and he allows himself this too. Just for tonight.

♕

He thinks that’s probably around when it happened, although if he’s being honest with himself (which he isn’t) it probably happened the night he fought Jaemin. They’d spent the rest of their days after like that — Renjun watching as Jaemin becomes Prince Jaemin in the day only for him to shed the persona like a second skin the minute they are alone.

It had given him a strange sense of pride that he was one of the few people Jaemin trusted enough to be himself with, and it was probably around then too that things started to change between them. Lingering gazes, light touches, moments when Jaemin thinks Renjun isn’t paying enough attention to notice the feather-light grazes of his lips against Renjun’s forehead or the backs of his hands. 

But Renjun notices. Of course he notices, because there’s nothing about Jaemin he doesn’t notice now. Not the way his fingers start to drum patterns into whatever surface they’re resting on when he gets agitated, even if his face betrays no emotion, or the way he’s started seeking Renjun out during his meetings with his parents or with the Council when things get too much for him. Even the smaller things, like the way he sucks in his lower lip when he’s thinking particularly hard about something, or the way his eyes seem to glaze over whenever he’s flirting with the noblewomen Renjun is more and more sure he has absolutely no real interest in.

It would scare him if he didn’t spend a good amount of time every night telling himself that this was normal, that these were natural developments born out of the amount of time they spent together instead of anything else. It doesn’t explain the bitterness in the back of his mouth every time the betrothal is brought up or the flare of heat in his gut when Jaemin’s touch lingers too long on the skin of some noblewoman but he does his best to ignore those. If he doesn’t acknowledge them, maybe he’ll start to believe they aren’t there.

Of course, it doesn’t help that those are the reasons why he is out here right now on the balcony overlooking one of the palace’s sprawling gardens instead of inside at the welcome celebration for his Queen, who had arrived earlier that afternoon. 

He really should be inside. He had barely said more than a brief greeting to her before she’d been whisked off to an audience with the King and Queen, much like he had been his first night here, and then she had been taken away to be readied for the celebration. He knows he will have to deliver his verdict to her tonight too but, for some reason, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t even want to think about the betrothal and the departure that will come with it.

It is a selfish thought, because he knows that this needs to happen, that he would have had to say yes to the union one way or the other because his Kingdom needs a reigning pair, now that it’s been a year since the previous pair have passed and the mourning period is officially over. He _knows_. But the thought that Jaemin will soon be wed weighs within him like a stone and leaves a rotten aftertaste in his mouth against his own better wishes.

The cool air is a welcome relief against his heated skin and he presses the back of his hand to his cheek to check if he is still flushing. He can still hear the faint murmur of chatter and music filtering through the slightly open door but it gets softer the further he goes until it is almost nonexistent where he is leaning against the stone parapet. 

Lamps have been lit in the garden below, and lanterns hang in the trees, which makes the orange and reds of the leaves stand out even more. A beautiful sight and he half wishes he’d gone down instead of taking the shortest route to the outside, which had led him here. Not like it matters, he’d just needed to get away, and no one will think to look for him out here anyway. 

“Too much for you?” Renjun can’t help the sign that escapes his lips. No one that isn’t Jaemin, he amends in his head.

He turns to find Jaemin watching him, arms crossed as he leans his hips against the parapet in the same casual manner he’d been leaning outside his door that first night. The memory brings up emotions he hadn’t wanted to confront tonight and he looks away, unable to meet Jaemin’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he says finally, and he almost winces at how it comes out far too stilted for it to be unnoticeable.

Jaemin’s hand is warm when he lays it on Renjun’s shoulder, gently, like he’s giving time for Renjun to pull away before he lets it travel upwards until it tangles in the hairs at the nape of his neck in a way that has Renjun’s eyes falling shut. He leans into the touch naturally and curses himself for giving in so easily. Like he could have resisted anyway.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jaemin’s voice is as soft as it is warm, and a lot closer than it had been before. 

Renjun keeps his eyes shut and swallows in the hope that his voice will come out whole and unbroken. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Jaemin’s fingers move from his neck to his face and he finds them guiding him so that he’s now facing Jaemin even though keeps his eyes resolutely shut, like if he doesn’t see Jaemin maybe he can pretend he isn’t there, like the fingers that are dancing so softly along his jaw aren’t real. “Renjun,” he says softly but there is a commanding edge to it, one Renjun knows he only uses when he has to become the Prince that he is. “Junnie, will you look at me, please?”

“No,” Renjun answers, petulant, and he hears Jaemin sigh before he feels lips against his forehead, warm and real, more real than the other non-kisses Jaemin has been skirting around giving him over the last few days. Renjun’s eyes fly open and he grips Jaemin’s waist, to pull him closer or push him away he doesn’t know.

“Jaemin,” he whispers, but it comes out slightly strangled. “Please don’t…” His voice chokes off and Jaemin pulls away, uncertainty in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, releasing Renjun. “I’m sorry I just— I thought that you—”

Renjun can see him backpedaling both physically and mentally and he reaches for him, pulls him close until he can wind his arms around Jaemin’s waist and press his face into his chest.

“Renjun?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky, uncertain, and Renjun hates that he put it there.

“What were you thinking?” Renjun whispers against his chest. “You can’t just do that like it— like I _mean something_ to you.”

Jaemin’s grip is vice-like when he wraps his arms around Renjun and holds him to his chest, almost like he fears Renjun is going to run away. “But you do. You can’t possibly think that after all this— that I would just— with anyone.” He presses his lips into the crown of Renjun’s head. “I like you. So much.”

“You can’t. _We_ can’t,” Renjun’s voice is breaking but he doesn’t let go of Jaemin too. “You’re getting _married_ , Jaemin.”

“Do you feel the same way?”

“I— What?”

“Do you feel the same way about me?”

“Jaemin…”

“Please, Renjun, just answer me. If you don’t then I’ll— then I’ll let you go but…”

He trails off and Renjun knows what he should say, what should be his answer, the best answer for the both of them. But he can’t, it sticks to the roof of his mouth like it’s got its hooks sunk deep and it refuses to let go. What comes out instead is a very broken and kind of sniffly, “You’re an idiot if you think I don’t feel the same way.”

Jaemin peels himself away from Renjun slowly, carding his hands through Renjun’s hair gently until he can tilt his head upwards, forcing Renjun to look him in the eye. He thumbs at Renjun’s cheek gently and Renjun leans into the touch. “Did you mean that?”

Renjun scowls half-heartedly at him. “You’re an idiot.”

That has Jaemin laughing at him with a fondness that makes his heart ache. “Does this mean I can kiss you now?”

“Jaemin, we can’t—”

But Jaemin shushes him gently and the look he gives Renjun is so full of understanding and the knowledge of where this can lead, where it has to end, that it makes his heart break. “Just tonight,” he says and for the first time Renjun hears the tremor in it, the hint that Jaemin is trying to hold back his own emotions. “Please, just let us have tonight. And then we’ll— I’ll figure something out.” It’s an empty promise and Renjun knows it is, because Jaemin’s first duty will always be to his people and his Kingdom.

But if Jaemin can be selfish then so can he. 

“Just for tonight,” he repeats softly, his own promise, before he presses his lips to Jaemin’s and allows himself to get swept away.

♕

The atmosphere of the room is tense as they stand before the Queen of the Northern Kingdom who is looking between the two of them like she can see the bruises Jaemin kissed into his skin the night before despite their very strategic placement. 

They aren’t even in one of the official rooms, merely in the drawing room of the official quarters assigned to her. Although, with the way she is scrutinising them, she may as well be seated on the throne. As it is, she is seated quite comfortably on one of the two-seater couches currently laid out under one of the windows, the pale autumn morning as her backdrop. 

Jaemin is standing stock still beside Renjun, eyes lowered like he, too, is afraid of what she will find when she meets his eyes and Renjun has to resist the very real urge to reach for him, to hold him in any way he can lest he give more of them away.

As a result of their actions, he hadn’t been able to meet with her until earlier this morning but she knows as well as he that he would only have called it off if it was something really serious. The hurt has turned into a somewhat duller ache but it is still there, ever present and weighing on him like the reality of their situation.

“I have received your verdict, Renjun,” she says, her voice steady and commanding, a Queen if he’s ever seen one, even if it’s only been a year since she ascended the throne. “And I will accept the South’s proposal on a few conditions.”

Jaemin looks up then, slightly confused and more than a little worried. “Your Majesty?”

She gives him a small smile. “We will accept the proposal on the condition that I am allowed to make a change to the parties involved?”

Renjun freezes, he looks at her but she’s still only looking at Jaemin who Renjun can tell is trying to fidget in his place. “How do you mean, Your Majesty?”

“It means that I will be withdrawing myself from the proposed union and will be sending the Crown Prince to wed in my stead.”

Renjun’s breath catches and he can only watch as Jaemin’s eyes widen and he looks between Renjun and the Queen with complete and utter confusion. “U-uh, of course, Your Majesty. Will the Crown Prince be in attendance to accept the proposal?”

“Renjun?”

Her voice snaps him out of his shock and he mentally stumbles like he’s being forced onto a chopping block. He glances at Jaemin once before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “The Crown Prince accepts the proposal.” His voice is soft but steady as he looks up to meet Jaemin’s eyes, ignoring the way his cheeks have started to burn.

Jaemin is still looking at them in confusion. “The… Crown Prince?”

The Queen lets out a little laugh then and Renjun has to stifle the urge to glare at her given that they still have an audience. Renjun steps forward then, ears still burning, but he holds his head high as he holds out his hand. “Crown Prince Huang Renjun, pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness.”

Jaemin’s jaw actually drops and Renjun can’t help but roll his eyes exasperatedly. “Jaemin,” he hisses under his breath and Jaemin’s mouth snaps shut.

“You?” He asks incredulously, still looking between the Queen and him like he can’t quite believe his eyes and Renjun laughs, giddy and more than a little fond. 

“Yes, me. Sorry, I was under strict orders not to reveal my identity. My sister, Jieqiong,” he jerks his head to where she’s still seated, albeit a little bit more smugly on the couch. “Thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the Kingdom. I…,” he swallows and looks back at his sister before meeting Jaemin’s gaze once more. “I didn’t know she would do this, that this was even possible. I didn’t think…” he trails off with a flush.

Jieqiong lets out a small snort and Jaemin baulks. “Please. I saw the both of you last night. Most unbecoming of two Crown Princes I have to say.” She gives them a pointed look and Renjun flushes to the tips of his toes and he swears he can feel the bruises Jaemin’s fingers left on him last night throb. “Besides, I guess I have a confession of my own to make.”

Renjun and Jaemin exchange a glance as she continues. “It was supposed to be you anyway, Jun.”

“What?” 

“As Crown Prince it should have been your responsibility to ascend the throne but I knew it would come with a political union and, call me protective, but I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want you forced into a position while you were still mourning and then forced into a loveless marriage.”

Renjun feels like he’s been dropped into an ocean only to find himself hauled feet first onto a yacht. His head is spinning as he tries to wrap his head around what his sister’s just told him. She had sacrificed the past year of her life running a country, doing a job meant for him so that he could _grieve._ And she was ready to sacrifice the rest of her life too. For him. It suddenly feels like too much, not even like the world is tilted off-kilter but like the world has been ripped off its entire axis entirely. 

“ _Jie_ ,” he says, his voice trembling, and she holds out her arms for him to fall into like he used to do when they were kids. She’s smaller than him now but he still feels very much a little kid all of a sudden. “I’m sorry. I should have known. You shouldn’t have had to—”

“Hush,” she says, flicking him lightly on the forehead. “What’s done is done. Besides, everything worked out in the end, right?” She pulls back to look at Jaemin who’d been watching the whole exchange with a soft shine in his eyes. “I’m leaving my brother and my Kingdom in your hands. Can I trust you to look after them?”

Jaemin looks between the two of them again before he holds out his hand to Renjun, who takes it, but not before giving his sister one last hug. “I’m pretty sure it will be the other way around, Your Majesty, but I’ll do my best.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You better. Now, I think you might want to cover that up before you tell your parents the good news,” she says, pointing to where a bruise is peeking out beneath Jaemin’s collar and he flushes and nods before returning his gaze to Renjun, who can’t help but eye the bruise with just a tinge of pride.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” Jaemin whispers and Renjun laughs but meets his gaze anyway. Jaemin really is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and Renjun still can’t quite believe that he can call Jaemin his, that he will be able to call Jaemin his. He lifts a hand to trace the lines of his face and Jaemin smiles brighter than the sun ever could as he turns to press a kiss into the palm of Renjun’s hand.

“Huang Renjun,” he says solemnly and Renjun’s heart stutters at the way his name sounds falling from Jaemin’s mouth. “Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom, will you do me the honour of being my King?”

Renjun’s heart feels like it’s in his throat and he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry or both. So he throws his arms around Jaemin and presses the answer into his lips until they’re both smiling too hard to do more than give each small, chaste kisses, much to the disgust of his sister, who makes a very disgruntled noise in the back of her throat at their gross display of affection. 

“You still have to give him an answer, Jun,” she grumbles from where she’s hiding behind her hand.

Renjun smiles up at Jaemin and presses one more kiss to his lips for good measure. “Only if you’ll do me the honour of being mine.”

Jaemin hums and pulls him closer. He presses their foreheads together and cups Renjun’s cheeks tenderly. 

“I’m already yours.”

♕

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little thing that I cooked up that is basically 11k words of me projecting onto Renjun and waxing poetic about how hot Jaemin's become LOL.
> 
> Some little tidbits that didn't make it into the fic:  
> \- Jeno is Jaemin's best friend and advisor (I really wanted to write him into the fic but I never found the opportunity)  
> \- Chenle is Renjun's (originally I had him travelling together with Renjun but in this version he comes with his sister instead, which is also not mentioned)  
> \- East Kingdom's Prince is Donghyuck  
> \- West Kingdom's is Mark (no, they are not betrothed)  
> \- Jaemin actually marries into Renjun's family because Renjun has to ascend the throne. They live in the Northern Kingdom but eventually both Kingdoms will unite.
> 
> Don't be afraid to yell at me in the comments if you want to know other fun little facts about this au because I cooked up a lot in my head :)
> 
> Remember to feed (kudos) your authors!
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_) ♥︎


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